


Waiting In The Wings

by chosenandloved



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Rent, Musicals, Romance, Zoey and Max are Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chosenandloved/pseuds/chosenandloved
Summary: Zoey Clarke is the Stage Manager for CMU's upcoming production of RENT and she doesn't trust actors-not even Max Richman.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 127
Kudos: 51





	1. A Song and Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a new story! As a self-proclaimed theatre person, I hope this speaks to other theatre people, and the rest of you, too! This will be an AU set in a university Drama Department. What could happen?
> 
> All references to RENT belong to the immortal Jonathan Larson.  
> Please see footnotes at the end of each chapter for vocabulary, etc.
> 
> The songs referenced in this chapter are:  
> "One Song Glory" https://youtu.be/J-_0N-yHrDw  
>  "I Should Tell You" https://youtu.be/OfFVVo7kI8c 
> 
> A huge thank you to my Discord people and the tireless and lovely Beta AubreyRichman.

**WAITING IN THE WINGS**

  
  


CAST OF CHARACTERS*

(In order of appearance)

*denotes a role in Jonathan Larson’s RENT

ZOEY CLARKE........................female lead, CompSci major, Stage Manager-CMU Drama Dept.

MAX RICHMAN......................male lead, individualized studies program, Roger*

CALEB SIMONDS....................Asst. Stage Manager, engineering major, in love with Zoey

CATHY NG............................Zoey’s best friend, business major, Dance Captain, Maureen*

AUBREY VALDEZ...................biology major, Mimi*, mezzo, already off-book

DAVID THOM.......................CMU Theater Director, NYU Tisch M.F.A. ‘05, notorious asshole

JORDAN AHMAD.................sophomore, French literature major, Mark*

  
  


SYNOPSIS

The action takes place in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at the 

Carnegie Mellon University School of Drama. Current Day.

  
  


ACT ONE

Scene 1: A Song and Dance

The world of theatre was one of chaos. This was well-established. 

Zoey pushed open the heavy auditorium door and stepped into the familiar shadow of the theater. She was greeted by a cacophony of noise that would have scared any sensible person away. 

Zoey didn’t consider herself a sensible person. She was a theater person.

Not only was she a theatre person, but she was the Stage Manager, a position best suited for the delusional and the clinically insane. This spring, the CMU Drama Department was putting on Jonathan Larson’s _RENT_ , and opening night was ten days away. 

Dropping her backpack on a seat, Zoey made her way down the aisle, bombarded by a million sounds at once. 

On stage, her best friend, Cathy, called out commands and clapped out a count of eight as she reviewed choreography with a group of dancers. 

Further upstage she spotted her pal Caleb Simonds, the assistant Stage Manager. He was shouting to make himself heard over a circular saw as he gestured to a trio of set-builders.

Max Richman, a senior who was playing Roger, was rehearsing “One Song Glory,” with the music director at a nearby piano.

Even the predictable scrape of metal-on-metal as lights were attached to battens, a sound that would have driven anyone mad, barely registered with her. She was used to it.

And Zoey? She was the outlier. People always seemed confused when she explained her courseload to them. A computer science major who dabbled in the theater arts? Rare, but they existed. Seldom seen without her customary hoodie, clipboard and headset, it was a uniform that required no transition from the dark recesses of the CompSci library to the equally dim retreat of the lighting booth.

In addition to her highly-regulated academic life, she was also regimented in other ways. Headphones? Bose. Movie genre? Classics. Coffee? Always. 

As far as stage managing went, Zoey also had rules. Well, one rule. She did not date actors. No exceptions. Being involved with the drama department meant that they were simply everywhere. They were inescapable.

This wasn’t to say that she couldn’t be friends with actors. Most of them weren’t _monsters,_ or serial killers, but they were definitely not boyfriend material. Sure, at first they were charming. They were talented and attentive. They could read a room. That much was true. What was also true was that they were slick, glib, and they’d only break your heart. She should know.

She had been there, done that. Zoey shook her head, attempting to focus on the present.

Her first task was to get approval for the lighting plot, which meant tracking down their elusive director, David Thom. A notoriously difficult man with a sharp tongue but a gift for the stage, the professor insisted on being called by his first name. “Call me David,” he had clipped at casting. “Professor Thom is my father.”

In search of the acerbic man, Zoey climbed the stairs to the stage, making her way to where she had last seen Caleb. Catching his eye as she approached, she saw him motion for the guys to cut the saws. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “What’s up?” 

Caleb had paint on his wrists and sawdust everywhere. Zoey giggled, reaching up to ruffle his hair, sending a flurry of wood particles to the floor. He smiled wryly. Caleb was a mechanical engineering major who had a gift for stagecraft. He loved nothing more than building sets from the ground up, then taking them down again. He was truly in his element.

“I’m looking for David,” Zoey replied. “I have the last draft of the lighting plot.”

Caleb nodded. “I haven’t seen him. You know how he is. Maybe hang onto it for now. Hey-are we still on for pizza Wednesday?”

It was their tradition for the Stage Crew to have a pizza party and double-check the tech. Zoey loved it. “I wouldn’t miss it!”

Caleb beamed at her. “Can’t wait. I guess for now you can get started on sorting the sheet music? I’ll join you when I finish up here.” He gestured to a file box that was set near the front of the stage.

Zoey agreed and departed with a wave, weaving her way through the throngs of people until she reached the box, finding it to be full to the brim with binder clips and ream after ream of sheet music, as promised.

What a glamorous job, Zoey thought to herself with a smile. Balancing the box and the lighting plot, Zoey made her way past the piano and part way up the aisle, only to moments later feel a crash as an underclassman slammed into her, clipping the box with just enough force to send all of the orderly papers floating to the far reaches of the auditorium. _Crap._

Her assailant at least had the decency to turn around briefly as he ran away, a half-hearted look of remorse on his face.

Zoey let out a cry of frustration, and noticed Max turn from where he stood the piano, eyes following the kid that had run into her.

“Dude! Watch where you’re going!” Max exclaimed, shooting the offender a look of disdain. 

Zoey watched in surprise as he held up an apologetic hand to the music director and walked to where she stood, kneeling beside her. He began to gather up the sheet music.

“Seriously, it’s okay. You’re rehearsing.” Zoey felt terrible for causing such a commotion and interrupting his song. Not that it didn’t already sound perfect. That wasn’t the point.

He looked up and glanced at the music director, who waved him off with a smile and pushed back his piano stool. Max smiled. “See? Now I’m free.”

He held out his hand. “I’m Max. You’re Zoey, right?”

If he hadn’t been so polite she might have laughed in his face. Of course she knew who he was. He was playing Roger. He was kind of a big deal. 

Instead, Zoey took his hand and shook it. “I know who you are, Max. It’s nice to officially meet you. And yeah, it’s Zoey. I’m the Stage Manager.”

They sat down in the aisle with the box between them, sorting and making piles.

“Ah,” he said, reaching into the box for a binder clip. “I should have known. You have that look about you.”

Zoey laughed. “I’m almost afraid to ask what you mean by that.”

Max smiled playfully. “Oh, you know. Dedicated, all-knowing, might shank me...”

She feigned offense, holding up her hands. “Don’t get me started on actors.”

Zoey wasn’t able to finish her thought because David, their reclusive leader, came out on stage, shouting for Roger and Mimi. It was time to rehearse some blocking changes.

“Well, Stage Manager Zoey, it’s time to play rock-star,” Max stated, his face joyful. He hopped to his feet and extended a helping hand to Zoey. 

“This was fun. You wanted them by voice type, right?”

Zoey looked down and noticed that he had sorted the sheet music by voice type AND alphabetically by song title. What the hell? Was he a wizard?

She was stunned. “This is perfect. Thanks.”

“Great. See ya, Zoey.” Max ran off to join his co-star, Aubrey on stage.

That had been...interesting. At least now she could cross that off her list. Now she had to stalk David while he was showing his face. She picked up the box and the lighting plot and settled down in a seat in the third row, planning to accost him after they ran this scene.

The scene was “I Should Tell You,” a romantic number just before the end of the first act. David called for playback on the track and Zoey watched as Max and Aubrey blocked the number, stopping for David’s corrections along the way.

Zoey didn’t know Aubrey that well, just that she was a Biology major and a Music Theater Minor, and a fixture in CMU’s productions. She was pretty and sure of herself, and had been off-book for two weeks now.

She and Max circled each other on stage. Zoey was amazed by how different Max looked. He was scowling, and his jaw was tense. He looked absolutely tortured, even though he was singing to Mimi, whom he supposedly couldn’t live without.

As the song faded, Max kissed Aubrey, cradling the back of her head and looking into her eyes. At the final note David stood up, dismissing them with a simple, “That’s all.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped. At David’s words, Max dropped his hand, turning to the audience with a smile that was like the sun. 

“I felt good about that one. It felt more authentic.” Turning back to Aubrey, he offered a high-five. “Same time tomorrow?” he joked.

Aubrey smiled wryly as she walked away. “You are such a dork.”

Zoey didn’t know whether to feel confused or awed. Maybe it was a little bit of both? Either way, that sounded about right, with opening night just over a week away.


	2. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stress of managing a huge production starts to wear on Zoey, but she finds support (and distraction) from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's musical inspiration: Sparks, Coldplay- https://youtu.be/1aokooixKIo
> 
> Hi! Thanks to everyone for their extremely kind feedback on the first chapter. This fic is very close to my heart, and many parts (and characters) are autobiographical. My theatre heart is happy.
> 
> As always, my gratitude to Beta AubreyRichman for whispering the right things at the right times (usually 1 AM). :)

ACT I

Scene 2: The Show Must Go On

ADDITIONAL CAST, AS INTRODUCED

MISS ADRIENNE .......................................costume designer, doesn’t suffer fools

  
  
  


“ZOEY!” 

The piercing sound sliced across the auditorium. David. She had to hand it to him. The man could project.

Zoey looked up from her draft of the lighting plot. She had found a quiet seat toward the back of the house where she could observe the stage but still work undisturbed. Until now, anyway. 

She dutifully set down her papers and crossed the auditorium in the direction of the shouting. “Yes, David?”

Her temperamental boss was sitting at a small makeshift desk that he’d set up near the edge of the stage. He was wildly flipping through papers of his own, his eyes darting back and forth. After a moment he found the ones he had been searching for, pulling them out of the stack with gusto.

“Here,” he said, eyes still on the work in front of him. “These invoices need to be signed by Adrienne. It’s urgent.”

“They’re having final fittings right now.” Zoey replied.

Finally consenting to look at her, David gave her a look that artfully combined venom and patronage at the same time.

“I don’t give a flying fuck, Zoey. Get it done.”

_ Okay, then.  _

She took the papers and made her way out the double doors and down the hallway. She already knew how Miss Adrienne would react to being interrupted during final fittings.

Zoey took a deep breath and opened the door to the Costume Shop. 

As she stepped in, she was confronted by an entirely new set of sounds; the hiss of industrial steamers, the monotonous whirr of the sewing machines, and the animated voices and laughter of the cast as they watched each other become their characters. 

Some were more excited about their costumes than others. She overheard Aubrey lamenting how itchy Mimi’s fishnets were. “At least I don’t have to worry about tearing them. The more worn-out the better, right?”

Zoey watched as Jordan shrugged into Mark’s famous plaid jacket and striped scarf. “Won’t these be really hot under the lights?”

She overheard Cathy as she tried to put his mind at ease. “Remember, they didn’t have heat in the loft. I bet you’ll get used to it.” Jordan looked doubtful.

Back to her mission. Zoey was looking for Miss Adrienne, and she wasn’t looking forward to their conversation. There was no doubt that she was an amazing costumer and designer, but speaking to her was hit or miss. Either she was on the warpath and too busy for anyone else, or one could barely understand her because of the amount of pins sticking out of her mouth.

Weaving through the room, Zoey finally spotted her. She was hunched at the feet of one of the actors, pinning feverishly and passing measurements to a nearby seamstress.

As she got closer, Zoey realized that it was Max. He was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, with his arms out to his sides. He was shirtless. By the looks of it, he was being fitted for a pair of skin-tight plaid pants. They were being pulled and adjusted in all directions. Max didn’t seem bothered by this at all. In fact, he seemed oblivious to all that was going on. He looked to be deep in conversation with the chief makeup artist.

He gestured emphatically with his arms, pointing to his right shoulder, then to his left bicep. It was not lost on Zoey how fit he was. Toned, but not bulky…

“Oh, hi, Zoey.” Max’s voice brought her back to reality. “As you can see, I am becoming Roger.” He looked like he was having the time of his lIfe.

“I also get to try out some options for Roger’s tattoos. Cool, huh? We’re working on placement. I’m thinking a tramp-stamp is the way to go here.”

Zoey giggled.

The makeup artist, however, didn’t seem to think it was as funny as Max did.

Adrienne wasn’t amused either. “Roger, If you don’t stop moving, God as my witness, I’m going to stick you in the…” She seemed to think the better of it. “...in the inseam.”

Max didn’t pay much attention to these threats. Catching Zoey’s eye, he mouthed, “IN THE INSEAM,” eyes opened wide in mock terror.

_ -Don’t look at his package-Don’t look at his package-Don’t look at his package- _

“Zoey? My eyes are up here.”

_ Cool, so it HAD been obvious.  _ She looked up to see Max looking at her with a smirk on his face. There was no stopping the flush that spread across her cheeks.

Zoey needed a change of subject. In an attempt to save what was left of her dignity and Max’s nether-regions from pins, she turned to Miss Adrienne. 

“David asked me to show you these invoices. He needs them signed and returned.”

“When?” Adrienne clipped, not looking up from her work.

“Um, right now, I think,” responded Zoey apologetically.

Adrienne sighed and heaved herself to a standing position. “Of course. We all operate on David Time, don’t we?” She threw Zoey an uncharacteristically kind smile and reached into her smock for a pen. 

Glancing back at Max, she saw that he had changed into Roger’s quintessential black muscle tee and jacket.  _ Hmm _ . Max in a leather jacket with a guitar slung across his back? She didn’t hate it. 

He glanced up at her, and she realized that this was the second time in ten minutes that he had caught her staring.  _ Stop being creepy, Zoey. _

Luckily, at that moment Adrienne finished signing and thrust the invoices back into Zoey’s hands. Muttering her thanks, and sensing Max’s eyes following her, Zoey made for the exit as quickly as possible. By the time the door slammed behind her, she was already halfway down the hall.

\----

A few hours later, Zoey sat cross legged on the stage, waiting for Caleb to raise the batten . (1) Together they had hung the curtain. That done, she now sat with what seemed to be miles of velvet pooled at her feet.

Zoey sipped on her Vitamin Water. Ah, electrolytes. She was the pinnacle of health. It almost made up for the fact that she hadn’t consumed a vegetable in...a while. 

Suddenly she was hit with a wave of fatigue, and the day caught up to her all at once.  _ It wouldn’t be terrible if she were to lay down, would it? _ The weight of the heavy fabric covering her legs felt almost like an enormous blanket. Zoey decided that closing her eyes for five minutes wouldn’t hurt. Surely she’d notice when Caleb pulled up the batten.

She wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed, but either way, Zoey had passed out. Hard. She heard someone softly calling her name. Caleb?

She opened her eyes, squinting against the overhead lamps. Max’s face swam into view. Zoey shot up into a sitting position.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Max said, by way of apology. 

Zoey stood up, noticing that the curtain was already in place. She didn’t even want to think about how much time had passed. Why hadn’t Caleb woken her up?

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear them, no doubt smudging her eyeliner in the process. By this time, Cathy, her dancers, and the stage crew had all gathered. Time for action. She pulled herself to her feet.

“Ok, guys. The dancers are rehearsing at 5. We need to get the Marley (2) on the floor now,” Zoey said, gesturing to the mountain of black rolls neatly stacked behind her. She glanced at her watch. They only had ninety minutes to finish the job. She sighed and started over to the mountain of supplies. The rest of the group followed suit.

Zoey looked on in surprise as Max picked up a roll of Marley and slung it over his shoulder, walking downstage toward the apron.

“Where do you want to start? Here?”

Zoey bit her lip. Normally, two people worked together on each roll, each taking an end. He had picked up that roll like it weighed nothing. She couldn’t tell if this was  _ hot-hot,  _ or  _ theatre-hot. Maybe both?  _ She liked to think of herself as a modern woman, but here she was imagining him throwing her over his shoulder like that.  _ What the actual fuck, Zoey? _

The feelings passed as quickly as they had come. She heard Max’s voice again, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Zoey? Do you want to start upstage or downstage?”

Her head snapped up and he was looking at her, the look on his face a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Um, downstage is fine,” she replied quickly, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you. I must be tired.” 

Max smiled sympathetically. “I get it. Just wait until Tech Week .” (3)

Suddenly Zoey felt an incredible surge of guilt. She had a lot on her plate, but Max also had one of the largest roles in the show, and here he was picking up her slack. She gestured for the others to get started, and walked over to where he stood, resting with an elbow on top of the upended roll. 

“You really don’t have to do this, you know. I know you have photo call later.”

Max’s eyes met hers. “I know. It’s okay.”

They held each other’s gaze for another moment.

“It’s just…” Zoey sighed. “I appreciate your help. I really do. It’s just that when it comes to tech stuff, it’s hard for me to let people help. And before you ask, yes. I’m working on it.”

“Well,” replied Max, “I appreciate your honesty. The good news is that with this many pairs of hands, we’ll knock this out in no time.”

He was right. Why did she have to micromanage everything? Done was done. A _ ccept the help, dummy.  _ Come to think of it, Max did seem to be helping her at every turn these days...

“Do you have gaffer tape ?” (4)

That snapped her out of it.  _ Yes. Jobs. Work. Tasks. Stop imagining things that aren’t there. _

She reached for a roll and passed it to him, ignoring the way she noticed his fingers brush against hers.

Max, of course, did not notice. He had already busied himself with unrolling the black material, motioning for one of the stage crew to grab hold of the other end. 

Zoey stood back and took a breath, taking it all in. She watched as Cathy, the Dance Captain, set her group in motion. Underclassmen taped as the crew straightened and cut. Max and his group descended into peals of laughter about something show-related, no doubt. She smiled in spite of herself. For an actor, he sure was a decent guy. 

Opening Night was in ten days, but the usual feelings of panic Zoey had at this stage in production were nowhere to be found. She guessed it was true what they said. There was a first time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. the pipes above the main stage on which scenery and lights are hung  
> 2\. an all-purpose, anti-slip floor covering used in dance studios and theatre stages  
> 3\. the week before the show opens  
> 4\. the day when all crew members and actors are to report to have their pictures made for the program  
> 5\. a heavy cotton cloth pressure-sensitive tape with strong adhesive properties; widely used in theatre


	3. Singing A Different Tune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey and Caleb prepare for the show's opening, and she has a surprising conversation with Max.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: https://youtu.be/-J7J_IWUhls
> 
> *Waves to Discord friends*
> 
> A shoutout to ElliHelm for her literary consultation on this chapter. The brownies are in the mail.
> 
> Thank you to AubreyRichman for expertly crafting this chapter's villain. 
> 
> All Princess Bride references belong to William Goldman.

ACT I

Scene 3: Singing A Different Tune

ADDITIONAL CAST, AS INTRODUCED

JAQUI RYAN ....................................................................Crew Chief(1) , hates Glenn

  
  


**(8 DAYS UNTIL OPENING NIGHT)**

  
  


Up in the booth, Zoey’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Caleb. 

  
  


**Come open the stage door! I’ve got the pizza!**

  
  


Her stomach rumbled at the thought of pizza. She realized that she had worked all the way through lunch. After her morning class, she had gone straight to the theater to make the changes David had requested.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Zoey hurried down to the edge of the auditorium, pushing open the fire door to reveal Caleb, his arms laden with pizza boxes.

“Thanks!” he said, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the theater. 

Eyeing the boxes, and taking the top two off of the stack, Zoey laughed. “Exactly how much pizza did you get?”

Caleb smiled. “Um, exactly enough? These are theatre people we’re talking about here.”

They turned to make the climb up the stairs to the booth. “True.” Zoey had to agree.

Upon arrival, Zoey busied herself with grabbing paper plates and napkins from the utility cabinet. Caleb had lined up the boxes along the table in the center of the small room. Setting down the plates, she opened the box closest to her, and squealed with delight. 

“You remembered!”

Caleb looked at her affectionately. “Ham, pineapple, and jalapeño, side of ranch dressing. How could I forget?”

“You’re the best.” She hugged him tightly.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” he replied, patting the top of her head. “Let’s eat! Stage crew will be here soon.”

The two of them sat down to eat, falling easily into conversation, as they always did. Caleb was busy with a group project that involved a lot of collaboration with classmates who were unfortunately not pulling their weight. Zoey regaled him with a story of an underclassman programmer who had weird superstitions about seats in the labs. After they finished eating, the topic changed to the tasks ahead of them. There was a lot to do before Wet Tech(2) that evening.

Tossing the plates and napkins into the trash can, Caleb peered out the window at the stage, where the chorus was running numbers with the choreographer. “Wow! You laid the Marley already? How’d you manage that?”

“Oh, Max helped me,” Zoey replied, definitely leaving out the part about her primitive sexual fantasy. “Cathy brought the dancers, too. It went pretty fast.”

“Ok.” Caleb didn’t turn around. “Well, let’s get started on the sheet music.”

Zoey took a sip from her water bottle. “That’s done. I had some help with that, too.”

He turned to face her. “Let me guess. Max?”

She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, actually. It all got tossed on the floor, and I wasn’t going to fix it until today, but he had some free time, and…”

Caleb scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure he did.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes. “What is your problem? Help is help. There’s no class system here. I know you have a lot going on. I’m trying to take something off your plate. I knew you had that Chem exam this morning. How did it go, by the way?”

He ignored her question. “You know what, Zoey? It’s fine.” He reached for his backpack. “It looks like you have everything handled. I’ll be back at 5 for rehearsal.” 

Zoey couldn’t believe it. “Are you seriously not going to hang out with the crew when they get here?”

Caleb turned and finally looked at her. His eyes were sad. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine without me, Zoey.”

_ Shit.  _ Apparently, actors weren’t the only dramatic ones.

\----------------------

  
  


Being up on the catwalk(3) always brought back memories, and they weren’t always good ones.

Zoey attempted to work quickly so that she could move on to other things. History had taught her that if she kept busy, she could keep the flood of images at bay. Normally she liked being up here, but today her thoughts got the best of her.

Jaxon. The name made her skin crawl, even now.

Jaxon had been playing Billy in  _ 42nd Street _ . The guy could wear a suit, she’d give him that. At first, he had been charming and complimentary. They had gotten together quickly. She’d been in the middle of it before she’d realized they were even a couple. Together, they’d crossed off every theatre cliche off the list: There had been late nights in the booth, sitting together during Notes, stolen kisses in the Prop Shop...

It had all been too good to be true, of course. Jaxon had shown his true colors soon enough. He had a habit of gaslighting her, making her constantly question her sanity and her worth. There had been other girls, of course. Zoey had already exhausted herself cataloging the lingering hugs and sidelong glances. 

When she confronted him about it, he had brushed it off. Eventually, his cheating became too obvious to ignore, and when Zoey ended things, he showed no remorse. He had even told her that since he was “a creative,” that he had needs, and that Zoey hadn’t been “sexually available” enough for him, that he had only been with her because she had been convenient. 

“Zoey, getting you to go out with me was just too easy, you certainly weren’t a challenge. Hell, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It didn’t take a psychic to know how to get what I wanted from you.” 

Zoey should have known he was no good, especially with a name like that. After that disaster, she made up her mind. No more wearing her heart on her sleeve. No one was going to be that close to her again, let alone an actor. 

It was easier this way. Simple. No gray area.

_ All actors were jerks and couldn’t be trusted.  _

Maybe, if she repeated it to herself enough, she’d believe it.

Then, there was Max. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body. He seemed to be the exception to that rule. Like in that Paramore song. She frowned. That was annoying. 

Knowing she was alone, and that the song was now stuck in her head, Zoey couldn’t help but sing to herself as she worked.

  
  


_ And up until now _

_ I had sworn to myself that I'm content _

_ With loneliness _

_ Because none of it was ever worth the risk _

_ But you are the only exception... _

“Who’s ‘the only exception?’” The voice came out of nowhere. Zoey jumped and made a squeaking noise. 

Max. Speaking of the devil. 

“It’s cool up here,” remarked Max as he looked around, seemingly unaware that he had almost given her a heart attack. “It’s almost like a tree house.”

Zoey watched him, hands in his pockets, cool as a cucumber, while she willed her heart to resume normal function. 

She exhaled slowly. “It is, actually. Sometimes, I come up here for some peace and quiet.” She paused, unsure. “Um, is there something I can help you with?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you. As a matter of fact, there is. By accident, I took my-”

He was unceremoniously interrupted by the sound of a cymbal crashing in the pit 4). Zoey could vaguely hear Jaqui, the Crew Chief, tearing into the musicians. Angry retorts followed.

They both winced at the noise. “Peace and quiet, huh?” Max joked. “Anyway, by accident I took my mic pack with me, and I wanted to turn it in so it could be charged before rehearsal tonight.” 

He reached into his pocket of his jacket and retrieved the customary black rectangle, holding it up. 

Wait, since when did Max wear a black leather jacket? It looked familiar.

“Could you charge it for me? I don’t want David to hear about it. I know he’s weird about those things, so I brought it over as soon as I realized.” 

When she didn’t respond, he added, “Please, Zoey?”

Zoey exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Is that Roger’s jacket?”

“Yeah!” Max exclaimed. “It’s such a part of Roger’s persona that I thought it couldn’t hurt, character-wise. Plus,” he added, pausing for emphasis, “I look like a badass.”

_ He wasn’t wrong.  _ She shook her head. What had he asked her? The battery. Right.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll charge it. No problem.”

Max smiled and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

Placing it in her pocket, Zoey knelt down, beginning to gather up the discarded gels. She could feel Max’s eyes on her.

“I’ll admit,” he started. “I’m curious.”

_ This guy had a lot of questions.  _ “Curious about what?”

“About your song,” he replied. “‘The Only Exception.’ That’s a unique choice to sing to yourself on the catwalk.”

Zoey kept her head down, willing the flush in her cheeks to go away. This was why she didn’t sing out loud.

Max persisted. “I mean, “ _ And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance _ .” He sang the line out loud. “That’s pretty heavy stuff.”

Zoey hadn’t expected to defend the lyrics her subconscious had brought to the surface. She didn’t have an answer, so she just shrugged. 

_ Was she a fucking mime?! _

Max didn’t seem bothered by her lack of response. “‘ _ Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high, _ ’” he quoted.

Zoey frowned, finding her voice. She didn’t recognize the quote. “What’s that from?”

“ _ The Princess Bride, _ ” he replied. “The book version. That line didn’t make it into the movie, unfortunately.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know there was a book version.” Some fan she was.

“There is!” Max said, his voice animated. “I have a great illustrated version. I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Zoey said quietly, startling herself.

She looked up and caught Max’s eye. He had an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. 

_ Ok. This was becoming too much.  _ Clutching her materials, Zoey stood, attempting to maneuver her way back to the booth. However, as luck would have it, her foot caught on a box of gear and she pitched forward awkwardly, only to find herself falling towards Max. Both of his arms shot out to catch her, and she fell against his chest, their faces inches apart.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling back slightly, his eyes seeming to scan her for signs of injury. He set her gingerly on her feet. 

Zoey cringed. How much awkwardness could one person handle in a single day? She noticed that Max’s arms were still supporting her, his hands now resting under her elbows. She willed the ground to open up and swallow her hole. When that didn’t happen, she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and he dropped his hands to his sides. 

“Nice reflexes,” she commented feebly.

“Thanks,” Max said modestly, returning her smile. “It’s the training.” 

“Speaking of training,” he went on. “Why are you Stage Crew? Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who pretends they can’t sing. You have an incredible voice.” 

Zoey was taken aback. She knew she could carry a tune, and she liked singing, but Max was just being nice. She preferred to be behind the scenes. She loved theater, but it was safer behind the scenes. Safer away from the actors, if she was being 100% honest.

She didn’t really know how to respond, and she didn’t want to lie. As it was, he seemed to have the power to see right through her, anyway. 

“Thanks,” she managed. “I guess, I just fell into stage managing and fell in love with it.”

“Ah, so you’re trying to be theatre-adjacent,” Max clarified. “All theatre, no drama?”

_ Something like that. _

Why was he being so nice to her? He was literally the most aggressively kind person she had ever met. She felt like she could share anything with him, and he’d just nod commiseratingly.

_ Z: “And things got out of hand, so I just had to kill him and hide the body, you know?” _

_ M: “Ugh, that must have been so tough.” _

“You good?” she heard him ask, breaking her out of her thoughts. She nodded, opening her mouth to speak when a second crash, even louder than before, could be heard coming from backstage, followed by a resounding, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, GLENN?!”

Zoey stopped in her tracks. She looked over at Max.

He raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “That is definitely going to show up in the notes.”

Zoey doubled over in laughter, releasing the tension of the last half-hour, and Max joined her. They laughed at the ridiculousness that was putting on a production. Tears of laughter ran down Zoey’s cheeks. After a few minutes, she managed to compose herself and sighed. She had needed to laugh. Unfortunately, reality beckoned. 

“Ugh,” she lamented. “I guess I should go see what the commotion is about.” 

Max stooped to pick up the box from the floor and both of them started walking toward the booth door, this time without incident. Zoey was glad that Max was walking behind her, because it meant that he couldn’t see the goofy smile that was now obvious on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. the chief of the stage staff, in charge of building and shifting scenery.  
> 2\. the first technical rehearsal that includes actors and all departments  
> 3\. a walkway, giving access to technical and service areas above the stage or auditorium  
> 4\. where the orchestra sits.


	4. A Tough Act To Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey is the recipient of a surprising gift, and weathers the wrath of their director with the rest of the cast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All references to RENT belong to Jonathan Larson.  
> All references to The Princess Bride belong to William Goldman.
> 
> Thanks again to ElliHelm for her suggestion on the gift.  
> Link to the book: https://amzn.to/3f5CAUO 
> 
> Beta Babe AubreyRichman keeps the wheels turning as always!

ACT I

Scene 4: A Tough Act to Follow

  
  


**(6 DAYS UNTIL OPENING NIGHT)**

  
  


Zoey sat hunched over the lighting plot, making bleary-eyed final changes, when she heard a knock on the booth door. She straightened up. 

“Hello?” she called. 

That was strange. Neither David nor Caleb would bother to knock. They’d just come straight in. No one else even came up there.

Setting down her pencil, she walked over to the door and pulled it open. 

Standing there was Max, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a large book clutched to his chest.

“Hi!” he said, that trademark grin appearing on his face. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“Yup, here I am,” replied Zoey dumbly. There was a moment’s silence before she came to her senses. Max turning up out of the blue had surprised her, of course, but it also felt...significant. She held the door open wider. “Uh, come in.”  _ Be polite, Zoey.  _

Max stepped into the booth, letting his backpack slide to the floor. Zoey closed the door and turned to face him. 

“What’s up?”

“Well, I’m sorry to ambush you here while you’re working. I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you. Cathy’s in class and not answering. I was going to text you, but then I realized that I didn’t have your number, which is weird since you’re Stage Manager.”

Zoey nodded. “Yeah, it is kind of weird.” 

Max smiled and gestured to her with one hand.

_ Huh? Oh.  _ She reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out her phone, swiping it open before passing it to him. 

He added his contact and then called himself, letting it ring once before ending the call. 

“Anyway,” he said casually, handing her back her phone, “I knew I had to find you before rehearsal tonight because if not, you’d be off being busy and indispensable and I’d never find you.”

Zoey slid her phone back into her pocket. She was confused. Why would he need to find her?

She looked up at Max. He was still holding the book with a goofy grin on his face. It finally dawned on Zoey that he was waiting for her to ask about it.  _ Okay, that was cute.  _

Matching his smile with one of her own, she decided to join in the game. “What do you have there?”

If Max had been smiling before, whatever this was threatened to split his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” He turned the book around to reveal that it was a brown, leather-bound copy of  _ The Princess Bride _ . He set it down on the table next to them. 

“Wow!” Zoey exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.” Taking it into her hands, she opened the front cover and gently ran her hands over the pages, admiring the illustrations. She opened to an illustration of the Princess in her scarlet dress alongside Pirate Roberts and sighed contentedly in spite of herself. 

Max noticed and leaned in to take a look. “Ah. I’d like to think that I would have made a good pirate, if given the chance.” 

Zoey chuckled. “So it’s true, what they say about actors.” He looked up at her questioningly.

“That you all live in a fantasy land,” Zoey supplied. 

Max crinkled his nose in mock offense. “Maybe it is true. But I’m happy here in Fantasy Land. Real life is not enough for me.”

Just when Zoey thought she had him figured out, there he went again, surprising her. She carefully closed the book and held it towards him. “Thank you for showing this to me. It’s gorgeous.”

Max shook his head with a smile. “Oh, no,” he replied. “This is your copy.”

She was shocked. “Really? Thanks, Max. I love it.”

His eyes sparkled as he held her gaze. “It’s my pleasure.”

Zoey wasn’t sure what to say. This guy had just appeared out of nowhere. In fact, he kept doing that. He was kind, earnest, attentive...basically, the opposite of an asshole. But he was an actor. She felt like she was fraternizing with the enemy. Zoey bristled internally. The shine on her rules was beginning to tarnish.

Max cleared his throat. “Penny for your thoughts.”

Zoey felt bad. There she was, in her own head again. She looked up at him again. She gestured for him to take a seat at the table. 

“You know what? You found out a lot about me yesterday, but I don’t really know much about you.”

He opened his arms wide. “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Zoey began, “I feel like I’ve seen you at Gates ,(1) but you’re also here all the time. I don’t get how you can do both. Did you clone yourself?”

Max laughed. “I’m working on it. No, I’m actually doing a compound, interdisciplinary major. Computer Science and the Arts, with a concentration in Drama. We do robotics and combine it with stagecraft, stuff like that. It also gives me a reason to hang around this place,” he said happily.

“That is so cool!” Zoey was impressed.

He bobbed his head in agreement. “It’s pretty great. It’s also as close as I can get to a theatre degree without my parents disowning me,” he said, mumbling something she couldn’t quite make out about ‘marketable skills.’

“In high school I was in a STEM program that didn’t give me much free time for extracurriculars, but I ended up doing a lot of summer theatre to make up for it.”

“Which shows did you do?” Zoey asked, surprising herself. She didn’t expect to get this invested. His face lit up, and Zoey found herself smiling along with him. He was so damn enthusiastic.

“Let’s see,” he said, tilting his head to one side in thought. “Mostly musicals. Chicago. Cabaret. Bye Bye Birdie.” He smiled wistfully. “Those were good times. Good people.”

It seemed that he was in it for the art, not the spotlight. “You really love it, don’t you?”

“I do. I can’t get enough. In fact-”

At that exact moment, Max reached for something in his backpack, leaning dangerously close to the board.

“Don’t touch the board!” Zoey yelled, a bit more shrilly than she had intended. Max jumped out of his seat as if scalded. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He glanced at her, alarmed. “God, I’m sorry. I know how long it takes to set all those cues. Did I mess anything up?”

_ Chill out, Clarke.  _ Feeling a little guilty about her overreaction, Zoey waved her hand dismissively. 

“No, not at all. It’s fine. I just get a little territorial up here sometimes. I can be kind of a control freak about the booth.” 

Max chuckled goodnaturedly. “Guess it was your turn to scare me. Well, if you’re a control freak, what does that make David? I’m pretty sure we’re one rehearsal away from him going on a rant about Stanislavski.”

Zoey laughed. “I would bet good money.” She hesitated, glancing at Max. He had reclaimed his seat and he met her eyes with a slow smile. She ventured a smile back.  _ God, he was cute _ . _What was happening?!_

She cleared her throat. “Well, I have some lighting stuff to do. Duty calls.”

Max stood up quickly from the stool. “I’ll come with you. Can I help?” 

Zoey stared at him. “You want to help me switch out the gels ?” (2)

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? That is, if I’m not bothering you.” 

_ No, you most certainly are not.  _

“Right, why not? Let’s go.” She pointed to a box of labeled gels, gesturing for Max to follow her out to the catwalk. This was becoming something of a tradition.

Once there, Max picked a spot on the floor, setting the box at his feet. Zoey knelt down at the closest lamp.

She pulled out the Gobo(3) and extracted the faded gel, tossing it to the side. “Cool blue, please.”

Max flipped through the box, arriving at the correct color and pulling out the gel. He handed it to Zoey, who smiled her thanks. They repeated this process a few more times, falling into companionable silence. Max was the first to speak. “So, I have a question.”

“Shoot,” replied Zoey, without looking up from her task.

“You’re Stage Manager. Why are you the one doing these silly chores? Don’t you have a team that does this kind of thing?”

_ Observant, aren’t you?  _ “Yeah,” said Zoey. “I do have a team, but they’re being pulled in a million different directions, and it’s no big deal for me to just handle it. Caleb and I usually get it done quickly.”

Max nodded. “And where is he today?”

Zoey hesitated. She didn’t have any reason to hide what had happened. Max was so open with her, and he was so warm and easy to talk to. 

“Actually,” Zoey admitted, “We got into a huge argument a few days ago. He’s pissed at me because he and I haven’t been hanging out as much these days. That part’s true, I guess.”

She decided to leave out what Caleb had said about Max.

“Then he tried to pick a fight with me about me doing too much, or... I don’t even know.”

“I do. That dude is in love with you,” Max said bluntly. He must have registered the incredulous look on her face, because he added, “Sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, but it’s true.”

Zoey gawked at him. “What? We’re talking about Caleb, Caleb Simonds. The guy who passes out the scripts and runs the board.”

“Yup,” agreed Max, popping the ‘p.’ “One and the same.”

Zoey’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Caleb? In love with her? He was like her brother, or a cousin. They worked together. They were friends. He treated her like one of the guys. He was just a guy.

The look on her face must have been communicating more than she realized because Max burst out laughing. “Please tell me you’re not just realizing this.”

Zoey was still thrown by what he had said. “I mean, maybe not? Sometimes he…” she trailed off.

Max was quiet, allowing Zoey time to digest this revelation. After a minute, he spoke again.

“Another pro tip: Maureen? I mean, Cathy? She has a huge crush on Jordan.”

“Cathy likes Jordan?”

“Head over heels.”

“How can you just read people like that? It’s crazy,” mused Zoey.

Max grinned at her, making an overexaggerated bow. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” 

_ Wow. What else had she missed? _ Zoey’s curiosity grew. She looked up at Max, gathering courage from who-knows-where as the words left her lips.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he replied, his chocolate-brown eyes steady.

“Can you read me?”

Max smiled softly. “This feels like a trap.”

“No, really,” said Zoey.

“Okay,” he said. He paused and looked at her pointedly, as if actually scanning her brain. A long moment passed before he spoke.

“You play your cards close to the chest. You are usually the smartest person in the room, but you don’t feel the need to let everyone know that. You have a clear, beautiful soprano that rarely gets to come out and play. You wear mostly black because it’s easy, but also because it helps you to get lost in a crowd. You anticipate the needs of everyone around you but don’t extend that courtesy to yourself.”

All of Zoey’s breath left her in a single whoosh. 

Max winced. “Too much?”

“No,” said Zoey, surprising herself. “Just enough.”

\----

It was now Saturday and the entire cast was exhausted after the second blocking(4) rehearsal this week. 

Zoey watched as Max sank into one of the auditorium seats with a sigh, propping up his long legs on the row in front of him. The rest of the cast did the same, sprawling across the first three rows. They rummaged in their bags for pencils and highlighters as David made his way down the aisle, perching himself on the front of the stage. Zoey sat beside him, and Caleb sat a few lengths down, leafing through the lighting plan as they waited. 

“All right, guys, that was a passable blocking rehearsal,” David began. “That said, we definitely have our work cut out for us.”

David ran through his notes for the first act at a breakneck pace, not even pausing to look up from his papers. Flipping with a flourish to his sheets on Act Two, he finally dragged his eyes away from his notes to glare at Jordan, who was playing the role of Mark. 

Jordan was a sophomore and a drama major. He was a phenomenal actor and singer who took his role very seriously. He was tall and lanky, with a youthful spring in his step that was perfect for his turn as Mark. Unfortunately, it had seemed to annoy David from Day One.

Zoey couldn’t help but notice how Jordan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if knowing what awaited him.

“Jordan,” David began sharply. “You were late to the phone for Voice Mail # 3 and you were also late to speak. Tighten up.”

“Ok, sure,” Jordan replied. He paused, seeming to be gathering his courage. “Actually, that one wasn’t an accident. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I feel like Mark would make the choice to-”

Jordan stopped mid sentence as he saw that David had raised his hand above his head. With his other hand, David pinched the bridge of his nose as if exercising supreme patience.

“That all sounds great, Jordan, really. However, our first dress(5) is on Monday. Spare me the Stanislavski bullshit for now, please.”

Jordan didn’t say anything, and neither did anyone else. Cathy looked absolutely livid. Max clapped a friendly hand on Jordan’s shoulder.

Zoey’s eyes widened in silent shock, but she kept her focus on the clipboard in front of her, biting her bottom lip. She felt the intensity of Max’s gaze but she didn’t dare look up. She knew that if the two of them made eye contact she would burst into hysterical laughter. As it was, a rebellious giggle was dangerously close to the surface.

Taking a deep breath, David composed himself. “Please, everyone, just pick up your cues. Call on Monday is 4pm. That’s all.”

The cast rose, busying themselves with putting away their scripts. David had a few tech notes for Zoey, which she furiously scribbled down, attempting to make eye contact with Caleb as she did so. She even offered a smile. Nothing. He merely nodded his acknowledgement of the cues. 

David left, as did most of the cast. The only ones remaining in the auditorium were Zoey, Caleb, Cathy, and her stage crew, who sat awaiting instructions. Max zipped his backpack closed and left it on his seat, walking up to join Zoey at the front of the stage.

“Any notes for me, Boss Lady?” he teased. 

She laughed and shook her head. She was vaguely aware of Caleb’s silhouette as he silently made his way out the left stage door, without so much as a goodbye. Zoey felt a flash of anger, which quickly mellowed into hurt.  _ Huh. So it was like that. _

Zoey turned her attention back to Max.

“No, no notes,” she replied. He was up to something.

He placed both hands on the front of the stage and leaned towards Zoey conspiratorially. 

“So, I have a confession to make.” His voice was low. She bent down to hear.

“Yesterday, I happened to be at the bookstore, and while I was there I decided to brush up on my craft, you know. The learning never ends. I picked up a fresh copy of  _ The Stanislavski Method _ .”

_ Okay?  _ “What are you getting at, Max?” Zoey asked, her suspicion growing.

He continued, that same smile threatening to crack his face again. “And I was feeling generous, so in that spirit of generosity, I decided to leave the book on David’s desk as a surprise. Good call or a bad call?” He winked obscenely, obviously proud of himself.

Zoey gasped and threw her head back in frustration. “Why?! He’s already the most unrepentant dickhead I’ve ever worked with. And now I’m going to have to run interference. Are you trying to kill me?” 

“Just having a little fun,” Max responded innocently. “I thought it might loosen him up a bit.” 

Zoey groaned, knowing that the opposite was true.

“Okay, okay,” he said, pushing back with his arms and standing to face her. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Have fun storming the castle.”

The faintest smile ghosted across Zoey’s face, and Max responded with a smirk, although he said nothing. 

_ Damnit.  _ He was already forgiven, and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Gates Center, main building for undergrad Computer Science at CMU.  
> 2\. sheets of colored plastic put in front of a light to create a colorful lighting effect  
> 3\. a piece of metal with a pattern cut out of it, inserted inside a lighting instrument to make a pattern of light on stage.  
> 4\. the director's work of positioning actors onstage and setting their entrances, exits, and other movement, as in "to block a scene."  
> 5\. Dress rehearsal


	5. Break A Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Opening Night and Zoey and Max are in for their fair share of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: Beautiful Beta Babe Aubrey (who wears fishnets like nobody's business)
> 
> All Princess Bride references belong to William Goldman  
> Inspiration: ElliHelm
> 
> Songs from the show mentioned in this chapter:  
> (Jonathan Larson)  
> One Song Glory- https://youtu.be/oWtPKHn-Qy4  
> Light My Candle- https://youtu.be/UkmEwXbLTDQ  
> I'll Cover You- https://youtu.be/l0vlFAmX2Q8  
> La Vie Boheme- https://youtu.be/I7jourv9vek (audio)  
> and video (film version) https://youtu.be/xTvhS5d1kn8 For those who would like a visual of what Zoey saw  
> I Should Tell You- https://youtu.be/OfFVVo7kI8c

ACT II

Scene 1: Break a Leg

  
  


**(OPENING NIGHT)**

  
  
  
  


Opening Night had finally arrived, and Zoey was on a mission. She had just gotten a text from the head of the drama department. Apparently, there were some talent scouts in the audience tonight, and they wanted to organize a stage door meet-and-greet after the show. She needed to give David a heads-up, and it was too much to relay via headset.

Zoey arrived backstage, her eyes scanning for him in the dim light.  _ Light My Candle  _ had just finished to uproarious applause. She smiled. It was a sexy number, and Aubrey sure could work those fishnets. The crowd was eating it up.

She was startled to see Max suddenly appear offstage a few feet away from her, looking a little frantic. He had pulled up his shirt and was holding it up with his teeth, while tugging off what was left of a torn mic belt . (1)  _ Uh oh. _

Zoey was at his side in an instant. “What do you need?” she whispered. 

Max leaned in close to her ear and spoke in a low voice. “I slipped in  _ One Song  _ (2) and landed weird. I’m fine, but I tore my strap. I need help with the pack. I just stuck it in my pocket for the last song, but that’s not going to work long-term.”

Zoey frowned. There wasn’t enough time to radio for another mic strap. 

Max seemed to read her mind. “The headset’s fine, but the pack came loose when I fell. I need you to reattach it somehow.”

Zoey whirled around, scanning for anything she could use. Her eyes landed on a roll of gaff tape. It was the best she could do. Time to put the cliche to good use.

“Zoey,” Max whispered urgently. “I have, like, 30 seconds. A minute, max.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Zoey said, grabbing the roll and tearing off a long strip of tape with her teeth.

He instinctively turned around so that his back was facing Zoey and pulled up his shirt to give her better access. Her hands went to the base of his neck, seeking the mic cord. She grasped it lightly and followed it down his spine to the middle of his back, placing a piece of tape vertically along the wire. She took the mic pac from Max’s hand and positioned it above his right hip, crossing the tape over it in an x-formation.

She heard Max’s sharp intake of breath. Zoey couldn’t see very well in the dim light, but as her fingers ghosted over the muscles on his back, she could feel that the area was irritated and swollen. As she pressed the tape into place, Max let out a low hiss. The fall must have been worse than he let on. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Zoey pulled his black shirt back into place, hoping that the fabric fell gracefully enough. “It’ll have to do until  _ I’ll Cover You _ , (3) or intermission, I guess.”

She wished she could do more. “I’ll call for a new mic strap right now. It’ll be waiting for you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She surprised herself by reaching for his hand. 

“Life is pain,” he whispered. “Anyone who says different is trying to sell you something.” (4) He gave Zoey’s hand a squeeze of silent thanks.

And just like that, he ran back on stage, accepting the guitar that Jordan passed him.

\----

They were now about three-quarters through the first act. It was time to head back downstairs and get ready for intermission. After the initial hiccup with the battery pack, Zoey had gone back to the booth. The show had run smoothly. Max was in no visible pain and there didn’t appear to be any audio issues. He and Jordan were electric.

Things were still tense between her and Caleb, but she knew that he wouldn’t let that take his attention from the show. Despite the weirdness between them, they were able to communicate enough to keep things running. It was all business. She felt a pang of sadness at the distance that had grown between them, but she sensed that he wasn’t ready to talk about it, and now was definitely not the time to broach the subject. Leaving things in his capable hands, Zoey crept quietly down the stairs from the booth and made her way backstage left. 

The cast had just launched into the raucous  _ La Vie Boheme _ , and she smiled as she caught a glimpse of Jordan’s Mark hopping from table to table as he danced. Zoey allowed herself a minute to enjoy the colorful scene before her, hardly able to keep track of everyone on stage. 

Suddenly, she heard a commotion behind her. She spun around to see Aubrey, wincing in pain as she attempted to stretch out her right leg. 

Zoey immediately motioned for the trainer and knelt before Aubrey. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

Aubrey’s mouth was a flat line. She lifted the hem of her dress and gestured to her hamstring. “I think I pulled something.” The trainer was already pulling out the KT (5) and getting to work, eliciting a faint whimper of pain from his patient.

Zoey froze. She glanced out onto the stage. There wasn’t much time. The rest of the cast could fill in for Mimi now, but the next number was a duet between Roger and Mimi. They had about four minutes to replace Aubrey, maybe five if they stalled.

Zoey pressed a button on her headset. “Where’s Aubrey’s understudy? Where’s the swing ?” (6)

Cathy appeared beside her, flustered. “They both have food poisoning. They ate at the same place last night.”

_ Of course.  _ There weren’t enough expletives in the world for what Zoey felt at that moment. She clenched her fists.

“Zoey, It has to be you. No one else knows the show like you do.”

Upon seeing the look on Zoey’s face, Cathy added, “And don’t bullshit me. We both know you have a great voice.”

Zoey hesitated. “Zo, look around!” Cathy insisted. “We don’t have any other options.”

Zoey didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled her black hoodie over her head, tossing it behind the ropes. She tugged off the hair elastic that was always on her wrist and threw her fiery hair into a hasty topknot before gesturing for Mimi’s wig, which Aubrey had thankfully had the foresight to remove. Cathy helped her into Mimi’s leopard-print jacket and fluffy scarf. Zoey was wearing a black tank top and black skinny jeans, and her eyeliner was already appropriately smudged from rubbing her eyes in the dim light of the booth. It would have to do.

Zoey heard a crackle in her ear, and heard Caleb’s voice, barely audible. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I switched your channel, Zoey. Your mic is good to go.”

They were out of time. She steeled herself, repeating the speech she told nervous performers hundreds of times before. “ _ The audience doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen. You know what to do. Fake it ‘til you make it. Sell it.” _

She heard the underscore begin and stepped out onstage and into the blue light. Cool blue, to be exact. The scene called for snow to be falling as the two characters met under the city lights. Roger, or Max, rather, was looking up toward the sky, hands outstretched. He was doing his damndest to stall. The set looked absolutely beautiful, and under normal circumstances she would have enjoyed it. Right now, however, she was worried about succumbing to cardiac arrest.

Zoey walked to center stage, approaching Max slowly. He turned around, no doubt expecting Aubrey. To his credit, only a flicker of surprise registered on his face. The show must go on, even if the freaking stage manager took the place of the female lead with no warning. Without missing a beat, they began the song.

  
  


_ I should tell you, I'm disaster _

_ I forget how to begin it _

_ Let's just make this part go faster _

_ I have yet to be in it _

_ I should tell you, I should tell you _

_ I should tell you, I should tell you _

_ I should tell I blew the candle out _

_ Just to get back in _

_ I'd forgotten how to smile _

_ Until your candle burned my skin _

Zoey and Max faced each other, about two feet apart at first. She ( _ Mimi? Or was it Zoey? _ ) took a tentative step toward him, and he reached out a hand, which she shrugged away. They circled each other this way for a bit, as their characters confessed their fears and worries. 

The singing and blocking were a piece of cake compared to the range of emotions Zoey was experiencing. She had initially jumped in for the good of the show, but now that she was on stage with Max, something had changed. 

At first, it had felt like she was operating purely on adrenaline, but even she had to admit that it was more than that. This was genuine attraction. Maybe it was the mystique of the soft city lights, or the vulnerability of the song, but it had definitely stirred up some feelings. She was alarmed by how good it felt to have him touch her, even if they were just pretending to be other people. 

They swayed together in the fake moonlight. The falling snow found its rest on their hair and settled on their eyelashes. Her scarf started to slip to the ground but Max caught it, arranging it gently around her neck. Zoey stepped forward, closing the distance between them, bringing their bodies flush together. For a split-second she wondered if he could feel how her traitorous heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She could blame her flirty behavior on impersonating Mimi, but who was she kidding? It was all her. It felt good to act this way, and if she were being honest, this had gone beyond acting. At least it had for her. 

Here she was, breaking every cardinal sin of stage acting. It was like the theatre version of playing house. She had taken it this far. If she was feeling brave, what would a little more hurt? She could stretch this moment a bit longer.

Zoey reached up her hand and toyed with the zipper on the leather jacket. Max’s arms circled around her back, pulling her to him. An undeniable warmth pooled in the center of her stomach.  _ This is okay, _ she told herself.  _ This was canon.  _ Max continued to sing Roger’s truth to Mimi. Emboldened, she reached up her other hand, grabbing hold of his lapels and yanking him closer to her. He reached up and traced her jawline with one finger, smiling devilishly, although she wasn’t sure if it had been Roger or Max himself. Did she want it to be Max?

_ Damn. Wish fulfillment was a powerful thing.  _ She was in over her head.

Zoey knew without a doubt that Roger and Mimi were supposed to kiss at the end of the song, but it felt wrong, like she was capitalizing on the situation somehow. Play time was over. She was just there for continuity, to maintain the flow and the blocking, not to make out with the show’s lead.

  
  


_ Trusting desire, starting to learn _

_ Walking through fire without a burn _

_ Clinging a shoulder a leap begins _

_ Stinging and older, asleep on pins _

_ So here we go, now we, oh no _

_ I know, oh no _

_ Who knows where? Who goes there? _

_ Here goes... _

  
  


Fortunately, Zoey didn’t have to make that choice. As they sang their final notes, she leaned toward Max and tilted her head. The cascading curls of her wig created a demure curtain between them and the audience. They broke apart and walked off stage left, hand in hand, just as the script called for.

They ducked offstage and at once the spell was broken. Max dropped her hand almost apologetically as he hurried to prepare for the following indoor scene, quickly shedding his jacket and handing it to a crew member. 

“Zoey, I don’t even...that was…” he began. His mouth opened as if to say more, but he was pulled away to enter for the next number.

“...it was amazing,” murmured Cathy, coming up alongside Zoey and removing the Mimi wig, repositioning Zoey’s trusty headset. Zoey was thankful. She wasn’t sure she could have done it, considering how much her hands were trembling.

Cathy held her by the shoulders. “I’m proud of you. We’re going to talk about this later, you know. All of this.” She drew Zoey in for a quick hug and released her, just in time to run on stage and claim her spot at the table for the reprise of “La Vie Boheme.”

Catching her breath, Zoey looked around. Reasonably patched up, Aubrey approached the stage left entrance. A hairdresser had already started putting on Aubrey’s wig, and stagehand gestured for Zoey to remove Mimi’s coat. Yet another pulled off her scarf. Soon all traces of Zoey having been on stage were gone. She fumbled behind the ropes for her hoodie and pulled it on, grateful that some coordination was beginning to return to her hands. 

Well, that was that.

Whatever that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. a flexible strip of neoprene material used to adhere and conceal a microphone’s battery pack to a performer’s body  
> 2\. One Song Glory, the seventh number of the show and a solo performance by Roger  
> 3\. The next opportunity the character of Roger would have to slip offstage  
> 4\. William Goldman, The Princess Bride  
> 5\. Kinesiology tape, applied along muscles, ligaments, and tendons (soft tissue) to provide a lightweight, external support  
> 6\. a member of the company of a musical who understudies one or more of the leads, and is also in the chorus


	6. Fade to Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey gets a chance to speak to Max after Opening Night and ends up sharing more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter:
> 
> Your Head and Your Heart- The Saint Johns-https://youtu.be/0QM5ggMlXNg  
> Barricades-The Saint Johns-https://youtu.be/nmEtubQl4O0  
> Roslyn-Bon Iver & St. Vincent- https://youtu.be/XqCg4sIhyFc
> 
> All references to RENT belong to Jonathan Larson.  
> All references to The Princess Bride belong to William Goldman.
> 
> A special thanks to AubreyRichman for bringing the magic and angst for our villain, Jaxon.  
> Thank you to ElliHelm for the continued inspiration regarding The Princess Bride.

ACT II

Scene 2: Fade to Black

  
  


It was late on Thursday. Very late. Everyone else had gone as soon as notes finished. As usual, Zoey sat cross legged on the stage, illuminated only by the ghostlight . (1) The single bulb set her fiery hair aglow as it fell in waves across her face. She was staring down into a pile of paperwork, wishing that it would disappear. She was half exhausted, half exhilarated after a successful opening night. There was no drug to equal it.

Zoey was startled to hear the fire door open, then close with a slam. Who else was in the theater at this hour?

She glanced up and saw Max. He must have spotted her, too. He stopped at the bottom of the aisle and pulled out his earbuds. He was dressed in sweats, and he had a duffel bag slung across his body. He had scrubbed off all his stage makeup and the spiky hair gel that made him look like Roger. His unruly curls spilled over his forehead. He was back to being Max.

Zoey felt her stomach flutter as he walked up to her with his trademark smile on his face. He looked tired, but happy. “Hey,” he said softly. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Zoey sat up a little straighter, willing the flutters to cease. It seemed strange to encounter him so casually now. So much had happened tonight, she wasn’t even sure what she felt. The pendulum had swung violently. Things were different. She didn’t know how to just be around him anymore. 

Her experience with Max could now be divided into two halves: before tonight, and after tonight. There was one thing she did know: Doing theatre with someone was fiercely intimate, whether you were prepared for that level of intimacy or not. Especially if you were wildly attracted to that certain someone.

The existential angst could wait until she was at home in bed, staring at the ceiling. Back to his question.

“Oh, you know, just some paperwork. If not now, when?”

“ _ No day but today?”  _ (2)  Max smirked and set down his bag, joining her on the stage.

Zoey smiled. “Something like that.” She paused. “Hey, so, about tonight…”

A grin took over his entire face. “You sure know how to keep a man on his toes.”

Zoey grimaced. “Yeah, it was really…” she trailed off.

“Special,” Max supplied. “It was really special. You saved the show.”

Zoey blushed. That was high praise coming from him. The flutters were back.

“Well, I’m sorry. There was no way to warn you, and the swing was…”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize.” Max said. He was looking at her intently. “You were great, Zoey. Really great.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice soft. She slowly regained her composure. “I still can’t believe you didn’t stroke out when I came out instead of Aubrey. Seriously, out of all the random things…”

“True,” agreed Max. “It was a lot to take in. It must be my iron will.” 

Zoey stuck out her tongue at him.

“But really? Theatre is always that crazy. It’s always electric. It always feels out of control. I always feel like I’m bursting out of my skin, even if it appears that I’m calm.”

He smiled. “And I don’t think you can get that feeling anywhere else.”

_ Nearly anywhere else. _

An unexpected laugh from Max broke Zoey out of her thoughts.

“The thing that actually threw me was the height, actually. Aubrey has a few inches on you, plus the four-inches from those boots.”

Zoey pouted. “I do what I can. I’m not a miracle worker.”

A thought occurred to her. “Actually, you know what?” she began slowly. “If you think about it, I actually saved your ass twice tonight.”

Max laughed, nodding. “You’re right. Twice. I owe you.”

“Right place, right time, I guess. What is with you and battery packs, anyway?” she teased. 

“Very funny,” Max deadpanned. “I powered through, but it was no joke. You think I’m exaggerating? Here’s the proof.”

Max stood up. He turned his back to her and picked up the hem of his t-shirt. He slid down the band of sweatpants slightly revealing a painful-looking and decidedly rectangular bruise where his right hip met the curve of his ass.

“Can you see it?” he asked, peering at her over his shoulder.

Zoey gasped in surprise. The bruise looked angry and disturbingly multicolored. Tomorrow it would be unbearable. “Oh, my Lord. Are you okay?”

Max adjusted his pants and threw his hands up. “Yeah. What are you gonna do? These things happen. It hurts like a bitch, though. Thanks for asking.”

_ It was happening _ . Zoey pursed her lips to keep from laughing, but despite her efforts, a tiny giggle escaped. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Max’s head snapped up. It wasn’t funny, really, and he could have been more seriously hurt, but the perfectly rectangular stamp coupled with Max’s reaction was hilarious.

Max looked up at her incredulously. He took a slow step toward her, a mischievous look in his eye.  _ Uh oh.  _ Realizing what she’d done, she got to her feet and started retreating slowly, palms up in front of her in a gesture of peace.

“It hurts, but I’m not completely broken. I can still catch you.” Max lunged for her, arms outstretched.

Squealing, Zoey jumped off the stage and took off up one of the aisles, the route in her mind already planned out. Without looking back, she raced up the spiral staircase to the booth, crossing it in seconds, and made for the second door that led to the catwalk. She hadn’t heard his footsteps on the stairs, so she knew it was safe now. Creeping out onto the catwalk, under the cover of darkness, Zoey peeked down over the rail onto the stage. 

She saw no one. _Hmm_. She paused for a moment to brush her hair back from her face and tried to catch her breath. He must be waiting to jump out at her downstairs, she calculated with a knowing smile. She sighed, pleased with her victory. She was just about to turn to go back down when she felt a pair of broad hands encircle her waist, two fingers giving her a tame jab in the ribs on either side. She let out a yelp of surprise and spun around. It was Max, looking both triumphant and not a little bit smug. 

“Oh, my God, Max!” she cried, flustered. “My heart just stopped.” She placed a hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath. “This is becoming something of a pattern.”

He was smiling, obviously pleased with himself. “It certainly is.”

Zoey noticed that his hands hadn’t moved from her waist. They were standing almost as close as they had been earlier than evening on stage, except that now, they weren’t pretending to be Mimi and Roger. They were Zoey and Max. This was real. Just like the warmth of his body was real. 

She finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye. Her pulse was still thundering in her ears, but he seemed completely calm. His eyes observed her curiously. 

“What are we doing here, Zoey?” he asked softly.

Her pulse quickened. “Um, playing Tag?” 

Max’s eyes were unrelenting as they searched her face. He looked like he was waiting for her to say something. She tried again.

“Hide and Seek?” she supplied meekly. 

Max smirked. It would normally have made her angry, but she was a bit distracted. He was standing very close to her, and they were both still panting a bit from the exertion of their impromptu game. It was then that Zoey registered something. The hands that earlier announced a playful victory had since traveled lower. One was cupping her right hip and the other was applying pressure to the small of her back, urging them even closer together. 

“Hide and Seek?” he repeated in a low voice. Zoey nodded, and his smile grew. 

“Well, I guess that means I won.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto Zoey’s forehead. His scent was intoxicating. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t noticed it before-a mix of mint and cedar, and something else she couldn’t place.  _ Sexy.  _

Zoey stood perfectly still, stunned. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Max’s lips lingered for a moment, and then made contact again with her temple, and a third time below her ear. In spite of herself, Zoey made a small gasp of pleasure and looped her arms around his back, being careful to avoid the injured area. 

Max pulled his head back slightly, and in the dim light Zoey could just make out the contours of his face, his eyes questioning. She froze. 

_ So much for her rules.  _

With that, she reached up and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. Their lips met and something inside Zoey snapped. She raked her hands up his back, impatient. As close as they were, she wanted to be closer. Max’s urgency thankfully matched hers and they clawed at each other.

  
  


_ Good God, why had she resisted this? _

  
  


He felt better than she could have imagined under her hands. 

Zoey hadn’t felt like this in a long time. She hadn’t felt this much of anything in a very long time. It was all very overwhelming, and it reminded her of something. Of someone.

Max surprised her when pulled away abruptly, tilting her chin up to get a better look at her. “Zoey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

_ Crying? _

Mystified, Zoey pressed both hands to her cheeks. They were covered with tears.

She was horrified. “Oh, my God. Please...this was nothing you did.”

He didn’t say anything, but he looked unsure. He was giving her the same look of gentle concern that he had given her when she fell, like he was checking her for broken bones.

Zoey took a step back and drew a deep breath. He deserved the whole truth. 

“Max, look. In the past, there was someone I was with.” She couldn’t believe she was sharing this out loud. Her voice began to shake. “He used me. I was just another conquest for him. And by the time he was done with me, he’d made me feel worthless,” Zoey finished, her voice not more than a whisper.

Even in the dim light, Zoey could see the anger flash in Max’s eyes. His jaw tensed, but he stayed silent.

“That’s when I applied for Stage Manager. I figured it was a way to stay close enough to what I loved without getting hurt.” Zoey closed her eyes against the memory.

“He made me want to observe rather than participate.” Max was finding it more difficult to control his reactions now, and Zoey saw him shake his head, furious. “That’s fucked up, right? I’m not even a participant in my own life.”

She fell silent. Max’s arms twitched and it looked like he wanted to reach out for her, but he remained where he was. His voice was anguished.

“Zoey, have I given you any reason to feel that way?”

“No, you’ve been-”

“Have I done anything to hurt you?”

“No, and I wasn’t implying that you-”

“So, what exactly is it Zoey? What can I do? You’ll have to forgive me for saying this now, but I have to know. I have to know if I have a chance. I’m too far gone. I’m falling for you.”

Her heart throbbed painfully.

Zoey sighed. “Max...that’s what scares me. How much I care about you scares me. I know there’s something here, but Jaxon, my ex, he didn’t start out that way. He wasn’t mean and manipulative at the beginning. He started out sweet and kind and playful. He had me fooled. He had everyone fooled. He was an actor, and not just on the stage, but in every aspect of his life.”

Max flinched at her words. It killed Zoey to see it but she had to tell him the complete story.

“He kept up the facade until he didn’t need it anymore, until he got what he wanted. Control. And I can’t live like that. Not again.” 

Zoey realized that she had been slowly backing away from Max as she spoke, and she’d traveled all the way back to the booth. She felt her back brush the wall. Tears had begun to fall again but she didn’t even have the energy to wipe them away.

“Zoey, I’m not Jaxon.” Max said quietly, earnestly, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb as he caressed her face. 

“And there’s no facade with me. This is who I am.”

“I know, I just…I need...I need…”

  
  


_ I need you. More than I’ve ever needed anyone. _

  
  


Max’s voice was a whisper. “What do you need, Zoey?”

“I need time.”

They were both silent.

Max dropped his hands.

“As you wish.”

And he vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

  
  


Zoey slowly slid down the wall to the floor and gave herself over to her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. a light left burning overnight on stage to keep friendly spirits illuminated and unfriendly spirits at bay. Also believed to keep the theatrical muse in a "dark" theatre, and to stop people tripping over bits of scenery when they come into the theatre in the morning.  
> 2\. a well-known line from the song Another Day; a refrain that repeats throughout the show.


	7. Curtain Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey hears some hard truths from her best friend, Cathy, and mourns the end of the production in her own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is the second-to-last chapter! I was thinking about ending it here, but you guys can let me know if you think one more is in order. I have a few ideas...
> 
> As always, thank you to the lovely people of Discord, especially to ladylillianrose, who must be credited with the original prompt for this fic.
> 
> Bow down to AubreyRichman of House Discord, The First of Her Name, Queen of Angst and the Medicinal Arts, Protector of Grammar, Beta to Many, The Breaker of Hearts, and Mother of Shelties.
> 
> Music for this chapter:  
> Fix You-Coldplay https://youtu.be/Oncu0bgdcXU  
> Open Water-The Saint Johns https://youtu.be/q6ekZaC8DIM

ACT II

Scene 3: Curtain Call

  
  
  


When Zoey had sat down on the sofa, there had still been daylight streaming through the windows of the apartment. Some time had passed. How much time she couldn’t be sure. She had wanted to zone out in front of the TV to give her mind a break, to be numb for a while, but her thoughts were everywhere at once.

There had been one small bright spot in the shitstorm that had been the last 18 hours. After her disastrous conversation with Max, she’d peeled herself off the floor and found her way to her car with eyes bloodshot from crying. It had taken an enormous amount of effort to put the key into the ignition and throw the car into drive.

On the short five-block drive home, she found herself wishing for a solution of some kind. She was certain that she’d damaged things beyond repair with Max, but maybe she could extend an olive branch elsewhere. She’d had the sudden urge to put something right, to make some meaningful gesture, no matter how small. Arriving at her apartment, she put her car into park and pulled out her phone. She composed a short text to Caleb and sent it before she thought the better of it.

_ Zoey: 1:07 AM: Hey. I’m sorry we fought. Can we hang out sometime this coming week?  _

She put her phone down in her lap and let her head rest on the seat, closing her eyes. Less than a minute later, her phone vibrated.

_... _

_Caleb: 1:08 AM:_ _I’m sorry, too. Let’s do it...but no pizza this time. :)_

Zoey breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe not everything was broken. She was one step closer to mending their friendship.

She turned her phone completely off, partly so that she wouldn’t be tempted to text anymore, but also so that she wouldn’t have to see texts as they came in. Or didn’t. Then, tossing her bag on the living room floor, she stumbled into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Not trusting Netflix to fix her, Zoey’s initial intention had been to watch something that matched her mood. If you had asked her two days ago, before she’d ruined her chances with Max, she probably would have said she felt light and invincible. The movie version of Zoey would be effervescent, a woman on the verge of something great. Fulfilling every Nancy Meyers cinematic cliche at once, a linen-clad Zoey would have likely thrown open the plantation shutters in her California home, filling her beautiful kitchen with light. The score would be composed of tinkling piano and other feel-good jazz tracks.

Now, wrapped up in an enormous blanket on the sofa, she more closely resembled a Brontë sister. Her current mood better matched the melancholy of a Gothic novel. Along those lines, she’d decided that classic literature was the way to go, and put on  _ Jane Eyre.  _ In retrospect, this had been a poor choice. All of a sudden the score in Zoey’s film turned much darker, with dread-instilling strings. She had the urge to run out onto the moors and thrash herself against the rocks.

_ Who said actors were the only dramatic ones? _

Zoey heard Cathy’s keys in the door.

Cathy walked in, closing the door behind her and tossing her keys on the console table. She reached for the lightswitch and flipped it on, causing Zoey to squint and groan in protest.

“Zo, what the hell? Are you seriously sitting there alone in the dark?”

“It wasn’t dark when I first sat down,” Zoey replied idiotically.

Cathy was kind enough to ignore that response, instead electing to sit next to Zoey on the sofa.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cathy raised her eyebrows questioningly. 

“About what?” Zoey replied petulantly, knowing full well what her friend meant.

Cathy’s patience was already growing thin. “Come on, Zoey, cut that shit out. Something must have happened. You stayed in the booth the entire last show, and you didn’t even come down for the final curtain call. You love that.”

Zoey shrugged unconvincingly. “I was tired and just didn’t feel like dealing with a lot of people at once.”

Cathy raised one eyebrow.

Zoey rephrased. “I didn’t feel like dealing with one person.” She looked down at her hands. She didn’t need to look up to know that Cathy’s intense glare had intensified. 

“Okay! Fine. I didn’t feel like dealing with Max. I didn’t want to see him.” This was a half-truth.

Cathy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, since when?”

Zoey sighed. 

“Since Max kissed me.”

Cathy gasped. “When?”

“After Opening Night, on the catwalk.”

“So, what’s bad about that? That sounds romantic.”

Zoey crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, it was, until he told me that he was falling for me.”

Cathy stared at her. “I’m sorry. What’s bad about any of this?”

“Because I fucked it up, Cathy!” Zoey was all out of patience. “I got so hung up on whether or not I could date an actor again, I couldn’t see what was in front of me. I pushed him away. Then he left.”

“After Jaxon…” she paused, fighting for composure. “After Jaxon, I swore I would never let anyone that close again. Since then, I’ve just been closed off.”

“Why?” 

Half of her was tempted to tell Cathy to fuck off with this impromptu therapy session, and the other half of her knew it was past due. She sucked it up and chose to do the work.

“Because it’s easier than being open with people.” Zoey took a deep breath. “Because it’s easier than getting hurt again.”

Cathy frowned. “So anyone you meet who shows interest in you is subject to these impossible standards that you’ve set for yourself based on past trauma with one person.”

Zoey thought for a moment. “Yeah, that’s actually a pretty fair assessment. I promised myself I would never be that weak again.”

“Vulnerability and weakness aren’t the same thing, Zo.”

They were both silent. Cathy spoke again, this time more gently.

“And you also know that being vulnerable with someone who truly cares for you is actually a gift.”

Zoey sighed. “I know that now. At that moment, I was scared.”

“So, what did you tell him that caused him to leave?” Cathy asked.

“I told him I needed time.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe I do,” Zoey replied unconvincingly.

“Jesus,” said Cathy, exasperated. “How long are you going to punish yourself, Zoey? What Jaxon did to you was awful, but it was not your fault.”

She grabbed both of Zoey’s hands. “You walk around like being cared for is for everybody else but you. What he did was wrong. But you’re not right, either.”

Zoey looked down at the ground. Everything Cathy was saying was true.

“Do you love him?”

Zoey nodded miserably.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Cathy said. “I think we both know that would be useless.” 

Zoey mustered up a smile. 

“But I also know that Max is one of the good ones. And in the short time you’ve known each other, I have never seen you smile more.” Cathy stood up. “And that’s got to mean something, right?”

“Right,” Zoey whispered.

“I was just trying to escape the memories, but I ended up running away from the best person I know.”

Cathy paused in the doorway of her bedroom and looked back at Zoey. “Maybe it’s time to stop running.” She closed the door softly behind her.

Zoey curled into herself and let her head rest on her knees, waiting for the tears that she knew would soon fall.

\----

Strike (1) was complete and everyone else had gone home. 

The Marley was gone. The stage had been swept. She had cleared all her inventory lists with the Scene Shop. The cast was gone, and their jokes, their monologues, and their songs gone with them.

Zoey was lying on her back on the stage. She did this after every show. She liked the feeling of taking in the quiet after the chaos. She usually enjoyed the silence of the theater. Now it felt oppressive and she just felt alone. Utterly alone. She should have felt proud, wistful, maybe even a bit relieved. But instead, all she felt was a tremendous sense of loss.

The intensity of her feelings scared her a bit. She had to get it under control. There was no sense wallowing. She needed to keep calm.

Zoey had never been very good at meditation, but at this point, she would try anything if it meant a break from the pain. She focused on keeping her breath deep and even. She was so focused that she didn’t even hear the door close when Max came in. She only registered his presence when his shadow cut across where she lay, causing her to start.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Zoey froze. 

He lay down beside her on the floor.

They lay there silently for a long moment.

_ Why was he even here? _

He was so close, lying there next to her. If she’d been brave enough, she could have reached out and touched him.

But she didn’t. 

In her peripheral vision she could make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Calm. Always so calm. How did he do it?

Max must be here to tell her that they shouldn’t hang out anymore, Zoey rationalized. He had realized that this flirtation, or whatever it was, had gone too far. He had to have seen the writing on the wall: She was too damaged to admit her feelings, broken beyond reasonable repair. The consummate gentleman, he had come to let her down easy.

She had thought that her heart had already been broken sufficiently over the years. It appeared that there was time for once more.

Zoey’s chest burned with the effort it took to not cry. Her throat threatened to close. She closed her eyes just as the silent tears began, running down her face and past her temples. The catch in her breathing must have betrayed her.

“Zoey?”

“Yeah?” Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“Come here.”

Zoey hesitated for a second, then rolled onto her right side, pulling up on her elbows to scoot a bit closer to him. Max reached up with his left arm and brought her the rest of the way, tucking her head under his arm. 

He shouldn’t be the one comforting her. Not after what she’d said. This was wrong. But he felt so warm, so secure, so solid under her cheek that she found leaving impossible. The tears flowed again, stronger this time.

Max ran his hands soothingly up and down her back.

“I’m so sorry he hurt you, Zoey.”

Zoey sobbed against his chest. Yes, Jaxon had hurt her. But she had also hurt herself. She was the one who was sorry. So sorry. 

She was sorry for all the time that she had wasted. Time that she had spent thinking about Jaxon, replaying conversations, wondering if he had been right about her. She lamented all the wasted effort, the painstaking recalculation and reevaluation. By the end of it, she had nothing to show for it but reddened eyes.

She was sorry for shrinking herself, for giving up things she loved to fit the mold of what she thought he wanted. She had bent over backward, making herself into a more palatable version. After all of that, he still hadn’t wanted her. She could see now that it had been a toxic infatuation, not love. Love wouldn’t ask that of you.

More than anything, she was sorry for every second that she had spent resisting falling in love with Max, and resisting him loving her back.

Zoey’s tears had slowed a bit now, and she let out a sigh. She couldn’t go back and change things, but she could make better choices now.

Tilting her face up, she ventured a look at Max. He looked down at her, concern written all over his face. His eyes looked like they were seeking permission for something.

Max wrapped both arms around her now, and pulled her tight to him. He let out a deep sigh. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that.”

“To do what?” Zoey asked, her voice still thick with tears.

“Hold you.” 

Her heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest.

“I’ve wanted to hold you since you started to tell me about everything with Jaxon.” He spat out his name like a curse. “But you seemed to be having a bit of epiphany, so I was trying to stay out of your way.”

Zoey was surprised. “I don’t even remember what I said that night,” she said, cringing. “I’m really embarrassed, actually.”

Max shook his head. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. You were telling the truth.”

It was her turn to disagree. “No, Max. I wasn’t. At least, not the whole truth.”

Zoey pulled herself into a seated position, even though she immediately missed the feeling of being in Max’s arms. She wanted to look him in the eye. He deserved that much.

She took a deep breath. “Max, from the second I met you, I’ve wanted to know more about you. You were kind, and charming, but I was afraid to like you, because I was letting my past color the present. But you seemed so genuine that it didn’t make sense to me. More than anything, I wondered how someone like you could be interested in someone like me.”

He opened his mouth as if to object but then closed it again.

“What I’ve realized,” she went on, “is that I’ve been holding myself back for so long, that I couldn’t even see a good thing when it was right in front of me.”

Zoey smiled. “I don’t know who to thank for introducing us...maybe that guy who ran into me when I was carrying the sheet music. I should send him a fruit basket or something.”

Max stood there patiently. He gazed at her with a soft smile, allowing her to finish. 

“Basically, I push people away. It’s my move. I can count my true friends on one hand. It’s hard for me to let people in, even when they’re really special. And I think you’re special, Max. I’ve never met anyone like you. If I’m being honest, I fell for you a long time ago.”

Max’s eyes locked with hers and Zoey felt a surge of hope.

“Basically, I’ve been taking care of myself for so long, I don’t know how to be with anyone, let alone someone like you. But I’d like to try, if you’re willing.”

In an instant, Max was in front of her. He reached up a hand and tucked a lock of Zoey’s hair behind her ear.

“Zoey, all I ever wanted to do was take care of you. I just never dreamed that you’d let me,” he murmured. 

“And since you’re the resident expert, you’ll have to teach me.”

He smiled ruefully. “You think I have it all together, but I don't. If anything, it’s me who needs you. I love you, Zoey.”

Zoey’s heart flipped.  _ After all this, he still wanted her?  _

Tears rolled down Zoey’s cheeks again, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were of disbelief. 

“Max,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

And just like that, his lips were on hers, and for an infinite moment, she knew nothing but the relief and utter joy of being his, and being whole.

When Max reluctantly pulled away, the look in his eyes turned her legs to jelly.

Zoey let out a long breath, and wiped at her eyes, feeling a little self-conscious now.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’m all splotchy.”

Max looked at her affectionately. “Nah,” he said. “You look perfect.”

Zoey blushed and bit her lip. She felt a warmth spread through her body. 

“Take me home, Max.” 

Part of her couldn’t believe those words were coming out of her mouth, and the other part didn’t care.  _ What was it about him that made her feel so brave and free? _

He responded immediately, but Zoey couldn’t help but notice Max’s wince as he got to his feet. She sent him a sympathetic glance, wondering what color his bruise was.

“It’s green now,” Max said with a wry smile.

_ Had she asked that out loud? Maybe he really was a wizard.  _

He was smiling at her. Zoey walked up to him, wrapping him in a hug and resting her head on his chest. “I guess this show has really left its mark on you, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Max, smiling into her hair. “It definitely has.”

Zoey looked up at him and smiled, doing a poor job of stifling a yawn. She found that she was melting into his arms again.

“You’re exhausted,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. to take down a set after a production has closed
> 
> So what do you think? One more?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey and Max celebrate the end of the show alongside the cast, but they take a non-traditional approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! I'm sad it's done, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Credit for the original inspiration goes to ladylillianrose!
> 
> As always, thank you to my Discord friends for their unflagging support and good humor.
> 
> AUBREYRICHMAN IS UNTOUCHABLE IN HER PERFECTION, BOTH AS BETA AND AS A COMRADE IN LITERATURE. That is all.
> 
> Musical inspiration:   
> John Mayer- Dreaming With A Broken Heart https://youtu.be/UguyZtTAclQ

ACT II

Scene 4: Cast Party

  
  


An exhausted Zoey had gratefully accepted Max’s offer of a ride home. 

With Max’s arm braced around her back, they had made their way silently from the arts building through the parking lot. Unlocking the car and opening her door, he let go of her as she slid into the seat. Zoey immediately mourned the loss of contact, but was comforted by the way Max’s car smelled exactly like him, like a grove of cedar and spearmint. From the moment he closed the car door against the cold, Zoey had felt herself melt into the soft leather of the passenger seat, her eyes closing before Max even started the car’s engine. 

She awoke to a hand softly grazing her forearm and someone calling her name. 

“Zoey? We’re here.” 

Startling upright, Zoey blinked into the darkness, trying to get her bearings. She looked to her left and saw Max in the driver’s seat, gazing fondly at her. She smiled up at him and stretched like a cat.

“Let me walk you in,” he said softly. Zoey nodded her agreement and reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. Max made his way around the car and opened her door. Together they approached her building, Max’s arm around her waist.

Holding her keycard to the door, Zoey yawned as she waited for the click that signaled it was unlocked. Wordlessly, Max held the door open for her and they stepped inside. The pair continued to the elevator, hearing nothing except the sound of Zoey’s Vans squeaking softly down the hallway.

They arrived at her door, pulling it open and letting it close softly behind them. Zoey dropped her purse and keys on the entryway table, her eyes settling on a pink sticky note. 

  
  


_ Z- _

_ I’m going to hang out at Jordan’s place tonight. Don’t wait up. _

_ XO,  _

_ -C _

Zoey smiled to herself. So, Max had been right about those two.

She turned around, looking for him. He was standing in the corner by the door, his back leaning against the wall. His eyes were glancing around the living room, no doubt curious about the living habits of the enigmatic Zoey.

She took a step towards him and his eyes met hers. Zoey closed the distance between them and stood up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you for taking me home,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. She and Max were in her apartment. In the middle of the night. Alone.

Max looked down at her with a smile. “It was my pleasure.” He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and nestling her against him. 

“I should let you sleep,” he mused, but made no move to release her. He held her for a moment, then spoke softly.

“What are you thinking?”

Zoey sighed into his chest, her fingers skimming over the stitching on his jacket.

“That I don’t want this night to end.” She paused. “That I feel safe with you.”

Max’s arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

Zoey tilted her head back and studied his face. His eyes were warm and full of promise. 

“Will you stay with me?” Zoey’s voice was a whisper.

“Of course.”

She took his hand in hers and led him down the hall to her bedroom.

Once inside, Zoey pulled her trademark black hoodie over her head, tossing it onto a chair. Too exhausted to entertain the idea of changing, she stepped out of her shoes and pulled back the comforter before getting into bed, sliding to the far side.

Max shed his jacket and placed it beside Zoey’s on the chair. He kicked off his shoes and crawled in beside her. He reached down and pulled the covers over them. Zoey curled into him, letting her leg drape over his. She felt the stress of the day begin to evaporate. Max’s arm curved behind her back and came to rest on her hip. It was like it had always been this way. She felt impossibly warm and cozy.

Zoey sighed contentedly, finally letting out a breath that she felt like she’d been holding for years.

Sleep took them both quickly, with neither stirring until the mid-morning light began to spill through the blinds in her bedroom.

\----

As was the custom with the drama department, the main attraction for the cast party was to view a recording of the show together. This was always fun, peppered with myriad inside jokes from the cast, and lubricated with plenty of alcohol, much to the relief of the beleaguered crew and those who had been subject to vocal rest.

Max and Zoey sat together, his arm slung comfortably across her shoulders. They had been inseparable since Saturday night, when he had found Zoey lying on the stage alone. They had only parted in order for Max to return to his place in search of clean clothes for the party.

Zoey wasn’t sure if the flush on her cheeks was a result of the after-show high, the shots they’d taken, or her proximity to Max. Perhaps it was all three. Whatever it was, it was a heady combination, and she suddenly felt like she needed a little fresh air. 

She glanced around. Everyone’s attention was on the screen in front of them, pointing and laughing.

Zoey’s hand was resting on Max’s knee, where it had been since they snagged two seats together near the back. She let her hand travel searchingly up Max’s jean-clad thing. She watched in amusement as his eyes began to widen. Her hand made its way higher but he said nothing. Zoey gave a low, seductive laugh and lowered her voice to his ear.

“It’s hot in here. I think I’m going to step outside.”

“Would you like some company?” he asked.

Zoey looked up at Max through her lashes. “Yes, please,” she whispered.

He seemed to understand her immediately.

It was stuffy inside, but sure to be chilly outside. As Max led the way to the door, Zoey grabbed his jacket from the chair. As she pulled it on, she realized that it was the black leather jacket from Roger’s wardrobe.

_ Thief _ .

Smiling, she pulled it on, chuckling at how oversized it was. It hung low, almost even with the hem of her dress, and only her fingertips were visible from the sleeves. Despite this, it was buttery soft and worn-in, and it smelled like Max. 

Trailing behind him, Zoey ventured into the brisk air, leaving the cheers of the cast behind as they shut the door. They strolled along the brick pathway for a while, rounding the corner of the arts building. They had entered a small courtyard, with walls on three sides that bore plaques of drama department alumni and benefactors. Zoey raised up a hand to trace a few of the engraved names.  _ Leslie Odom Jr. Billy Porter. Renée Elise Goldsberry.  _ “Hey, have you looked at these?”

She turned and looked over her shoulder. Max had been uncharacteristically quiet. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, facing her. Zoey noticed him swallow heavily. 

“Zoey, what are you wearing?” he said thickly.

“What?”  _ Oh. Roger’s jacket. _ “Yeah, I know, it’s way too big. I’m sure it looks ridiculous.”

Max snorted. “I’d like to think of myself as an evolved man, but goddamnit, Zoey. Seeing you in my jacket really does something to me.”

Suddenly she felt warm all over despite the cold night.

“Cognitive dissonance, huh?”

“Something like that.” He took a step towards her. 

Zoey turned and retreated until her back was flush with the wall. Max approached her slowly. She was a little mad at herself for how much she enjoyed the idea of being thought of as an object of prey. However, not mad enough to give up teasing him a bit longer.

Keeping one hand on the wall, Zoey let her fingers trail across the bricks as she tiptoed away, smiling. Max kept his eyes on her. Zoey backed up until the back of her knees made contact with one of the benches in the courtyard. He was looking at her in a way that sent a thrill down her spine. He approached her carefully, like they had all the time in the world.

He was wearing a thick, midnight blue sweater that made him look like he was preparing to sail his yacht to Martha’s Vineyard. It was almost midnight and there was a bite in the air. Spring was still a ways off. For a split-second, Zoey felt bad for stealing Max’s jacket.

It appeared that Zoey’s fears were unfounded, however. As Max arrived in front of her, she placed her hands on his shoulders, trailing them down his arms before circling her own around his waist, revelling in the warmth emanating from him. It made for a delicious contrast with the crispness of the night.

“How is it possible that you are this beautiful?” Max murmured, more to himself than to her. He raised his hand to her face, tracing the line of her jaw reverently. Zoey felt herself tremble under his touch.

Max must have noticed it, too. Dropping his hands, he curled his arms inside the jacket, pulling her to him. Zoey dropped her head to his shoulder with a sigh. Max’s hands moved lower still, splaying out over the small of her back. He still hadn’t moved to kiss her. And she wanted him to.

“Max,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He seemed preoccupied with investigating the curve of her hip.

Her frustration reaching its peak, Zoey grabbed onto his forearms and turned herself, spinning them around so that Max now had his back to the bench. She smirked at the look of surprise on his face. Reaching up to his shoulders, she gave him a light push, seating him on the bench. Zoey wasted no time in crawling onto his lap.

“Max,” she repeated in a low voice. He was staring up at her, eyes dark.

“Why aren’t you kissing me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

Max caught her lips with his own and Zoey forgot everything she knew.

Their hands were everywhere: hers in his hair, his toying with the hem of her dress. 

Zoey moaned her wordless permission and Max’s hands began to roam.

If she was being truthful, she had imagined an encounter like this before, and it definitely did not live up to her expectations. 

It far surpassed them.

Max’s mouth began to work it’s way down her neck. His hands were taking full advantage of their newfound permission.

_ Ohmygod. _

They needed to get out of here.

Zoey shifted in his lap in an attempt to maneuver herself off the bench, but Max’s chest responded with a rumble of protest, his hands grappling for purchase. 

“Max,” Zoey panted. “We have to-”

She was interrupted mid-sentence as another kiss grazed her mouth, and then her jaw.

Zoey placed a hand on either side of his face, trying to get her breathing under control. “Max, I want you, but we can’t do this here.” 

The look of realization and disappointment on his face was adorable, and Zoey stifled a giggle. 

Finally he came to his senses, and leaned back on the bench with a groan of frustration. 

“You’re right,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Besides,” he added, “I’m taking you home. I’ve wanted you for so long, I intend to take my time.”

It was Zoey’s turn to swallow heavily.

Max caught her chin in his fingers and tipped it up so that he could look into her eyes. 

“I love you, Zoey. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that. But tonight, instead of telling you, I’d love to show you.”

_ Fuck. _

Zoey grabbed her purse and wheeled around, trying to think of where they’d parked. Her mind had gone blank, unsurprisingly.

Thankfully, Max was a step ahead of her. His keys in one hand, he reached out to her with the other. “Ready, Zoey?”

_ Absolutely. _

She took Max’s hand and followed him as he took off at a run in the direction of his car. A slow smile spread across her face. For the first time in a long time, Zoey wasn’t afraid. She had never been so happy to be wrong about someone in her entire life.

And the best part? Their story was just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my Theatre Fic, but I have many ideas burning a hole in my brain-some one shots, some longer-form. I would love to have you join me on those journeys as well. Thank you once more for your kind words and support of this story. It is near and dear to my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. pipes above the main stage on which scenery and lights are hung.


End file.
